Love is Better Blind
by Seta Suzume
Summary: Vision is nothing but a pesky distraction in the process of getting reacquainted. Swordspoint, Richard/Alec


Love is Better Blind

a Swordspoint fic by Suzume, written for spring_kink on lj

Set just after the end of _Swordspoint_. I haven't read anything but that one book, so hopefully there are no weird contradictions presented here.

-----

As was his wont, Richard was slow to speak. He had been surprised, but he was not the type to let his surprise faze him. If there was anything to commend the third conversation he and Alec had following Alec's sudden arrival at his rooms it was that it was, at least, better and easier than the first two. The initial conversation had faltered somewhat when the talk turned to anything more complicated than the fish Alec had brought and how relieved each of them was to be seeing the other again.

Alec had fried the fish himself, just like he had in the old days, and he did it in much the same way. Only Richard was seeing the act with new eyes. Lord David Alexander Tielman Campion had fried a fish. In a pan borrowed from Marie (as Richard's was one of the items that had not been returned following his renewed habitation of these quarters).

The gray cat had been attracted by the scent and come scratching at the window. Richard had let her in, surprised that she had even as much loyalty as that. She hadn't showed him so much as a whisker in the time he was here by himself. Of course, the way he lounged about reading all day it was little wonder she had always liked Alec better. Still, he engaged her in rousing bouts of play that Alec did not, so she must have some reason to like him as well. At least that was what he liked to believe. Cats were fickle and hard to read. Perhaps that was part of Alec's attraction to them. They were similar in that way.

"I can't look at you quite the same way now," Richard admitted. The fish was reduced to charred scraps and tiny bones and a few morsels set aside for the cat that she hadn't quite managed to snap up yet. The frying pan had been left beside the fire. Neither man saw any reason to rush and return it to Marie immediately. The silence between them was finally growing comfortable again and they were loathe to brush away something so delicate and risk breaking it.

"Does that have to be entirely a bad thing?" Alec was cleaner now, his hair cropped, unable to lapse instantly back into his earlier form after his sojourn at his kinswoman the duchess' home, but he was slouching again. He appeared simultaneously haughty and repentant, his feline eyes straying over Richard's ready form, but rarely actually meeting his gaze. Richard didn't know quite how he managed it. Visually, Alec was nothing but a mess of mixed symbols in his estimation. Richard had had his suspicions, but had never pegged Alec for what he really was.

"No, I suppose it doesn't. It's up to me to make of it what I will." But saying one was in control of one's feelings was much easier than actually making it so. Alec leaned back and the mattress trembled under the shift in his weight. He was light, but the bedframe was old and threatened to give way if treated as roughly as they liked to treat it for much longer. Soon enough the structure would give way and they would find themselves lying on a mattress on the floor.

"I see you're not going to give into that assertion as easily as you should," Alec declared breezily. Richard got the feeling he was trying to get a rise out of him. But things had not changed so much that Richard would lose control of himself like that.

"I must need more convincing."

"Is that so? Well, I was about to propose a different sort of experiment. How about you, say, forget about your eyes altogether?" Alec's arms trailed over the side of the bed opposite his legs. He ran his fingers along the bedspread, down to its worn hem and tugged at the fabric, feeling the give in its weave, weakened by age and wear.

"Alec, what are you-" Richard started to ask. He was too late to stop his companion from ripping off a ragged strip of the bedspread in a loudly unpleasant yank.

Alec sat up, causing the mattress to shift again, and examined the fabric again with his head right side up, considering whether or not the strip was of the proper size and shape to be used as he intended it. Richard wondered at his intent, but kept silent. It didn't really matter now. The bedspread had already been torn. It probably wasn't worth it to mend it whether Alec kept the strip or cast it away.

"While you are no longer blindfolded by the fabric of ignorance, may I offer in its place a pale material imitation?" Without waiting for a response, Alec boldly moved to wrap the gauzy strip around Richard's head.

"That's no good. I can see straight through it." He had made no move to stop the tying. Likewise, he made no move to remove the fabric. He squinted through dark lashes at a creamy world patterned with the gentle hatchings of the battered weave. He turned to look at Alec. The expression of mild perplexion that graced the nobleman's face brought a small smile to his lips. Fooling around like this was a familiar activity. Their history hadn't been chopped into two entirely separate pieces after all. He was glad the past wasn't entirely a closed book.

"Well, let's try and double it." He untied the knot and went to wrap the strip twice around Richard's head. It managed to reach, although it was more difficult to tie. From Alec's side at least, it appeared a better job. He couldn't clearly see if Richard was trying to peek out at him or not. "Is that sufficient?"

"A clear- or should I say unclear?- improvement," the swordsman quipped. Details faded away, shapes became indistinct. What limited vision he now possessed was largely defined by the presence or absence of light and shadow. "Though it occurs to me now that perhaps we would be better off if you were blindfolded too."

"Psh. It's you who feels betrayed by what you seen. And not everyone is as comfortable controlling their body without sight as you are, Richard."

"Does that mean you plan to stay in control of the situation? Retaining your independent power has always been important to you, hasn't it?" He reached out tentatively until his fingers found Alec's knee. With a point of reference established, he let them roam upward along the smooth cloth across Alec's thigh, then made a brave jump to touch his-- chin. Alec had been just about to fire back a sharp retort, but when Richard touched him he abstained. Richard's lips were quick to follow the path his finger had taken. He had missed this. Both of them had missed this.

The closer their bodies came, intwining in the passion of the kiss, the more precise Richard's movements came to be. It was like he could see with his fingers, Alec thought, gasping with pleasure as a bold hand strayed into his shirt, tickling softly over his skin and stroking circle around his nipples. "Oh, God, Richard," he groaned, threading his fingers through his lover's loose, dark hair.

"I'm not so certain I can manage clothes as well as I can skin in this condition," Richard whispered hot against Alec's cheek. "What I mean is, you could do me a favor by handling your own pants."

"Ha," Alec chuckled, "I'm impressed you managed to be that delicate about it. Are you sure you can handle your own?"

"I know my britches almost as well as my skin. It's not as if I haven't taken them on or off many times in the dark." As if to prove his point, he deftly wriggled his legs free of the fabric without taking his right hand off Alec's chest.

"Anyway, the point is," Alec interrupted himself by kissing Richard again, "With those pesky eyes removed from the equation, am I not the same man you knew before?" He tensed as Richard stroked the sensitive back of his neck from his shoulder to the clipped fuzz of his hairline.

"I do miss your braid. If you still had it I'd be working on untangling it by now." He settled for kissing the side of Alec's neck with a nipping playfulness.

"Unhand me for just a moment, as much as it may pain you to do so, and get your shirt off," Alec commanded him. "I want all these clothes out of the way so we're not ruining anything. Mine are a bit too new to be rumpling up so badly just yet."

Richard obeyed, making sure not to dislodge his blindfold as he tugged his shirt over his head. It appeared to be true what they said- that losing one sense made the others sharper. This was like the times he had practiced blindfolded, feeling the weight of his sword, hearing the tiniest sounds produced by the creaking of the floor under his feet, and drawing on a sort of sixth sense or intuition to know to strike at the wooden dummy propped up across the room instead of a bedpost.

Compared to Alec's skin, the bedspread felt rough under his bare thighs. He heard the muffled flop of Alec tossing his clothes to the floor in a bundle and the cool rush of air that accompanied their movement.

"Oh!" he started a bit as Alec reached out to touch him. Perhaps his senses were not as heightened as he'd previously thought. The chill of Alec's oddly cold hand hurried the beating of his sweltering heart. He adroitly transformed his surprise at being touched into surprise at Alec's temperature. "I didn't know you were so cold. Are you uncomfortable?"

"By no means. I'm only waiting for you to warm me up. You know how I get. My blood must be too thin." He rubbed his palms together to generate heat from friction, then touched Richard's chest again. "It will be easily remedied."

"Was the use of friction incidental or was it meant as a suggestion?" Richard pulled Alec into his arms so that the taller man was leaning awkwardly against his chest. The position wasn't especially comfortable, but Richard was warm and the passions he incited in the roving of his nimble fingertips inflamed Alec's own inner fire.

"I can't very well answer that inquiry, now can I?" he barked out a cutting laugh.

"You sound the same," Richard muttered between kisses and caresses that grew gradually more intimate, "And you certainly have the same wit." He traced a finger over Alec's scars. "The same skin- And under all that nice soap, you've got the same scent."

"Your eyes must've been deceiving you then," his lover taunted lightly. "How does that saying go again? 'If it quacks like a duck, swims like a duck...'"

"You must be my Alec then."

"You're not very well going to tell me I'm not after all this, are you?!"

The gray cat looked away from her scraps, ears perked up, as the small room echoed with their hearty, naked laughter.


End file.
